


One Must be Eighteen or Older to Enter

by UggsBetts



Series: Loved to Completion: A Confluence of Marriages [4]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Accidental Marriage, Asexual Character, Asexuality, Coming of Age, Deep Throating, Fantasy, Gay, M/M, Marriage, Nonbinary Character, Oral Fingering, Royalty, Sex Curse, Sex Haze
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-14
Updated: 2019-11-14
Packaged: 2021-01-30 22:23:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21435676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UggsBetts/pseuds/UggsBetts
Summary: Before Aelor, Crown Prince of Conqueria, became the thirty-eight year old eternal virgin we all know and love (until he was accidentally deflowered and wed by his now-human-shaped-husband), he was a soon-to-be-eighteen-year-old with the strong desire to get laid.
Relationships: Original Male Character/Original Male Character
Series: Loved to Completion: A Confluence of Marriages [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1434640
Kudos: 4





	One Must be Eighteen or Older to Enter

**Author's Note:**

> Originally seen in Chapter 21 of "The Story of a Man Who Saw a Tree and Was Like, 'I’m Gonna Fuck That.'

When he was seventeen, just before his 18th birthday, there was a boy he liked very much. Or at least liked making out with very much. His name is not important, because their budding romance (or lust-mance, as it so often is with teens) was not fated in the stars of the Great Ejaculate in the Sky. 

So much kissing, heavy petting, even  _ french _ kissing, and Aelor couldn’t wait until they were both eighteen so he could officially fuck his boyfriend and they could be married. 

His father warned him that things would be different once he was crowned, that he might not feel the same way, but Aelor, ever headstrong and privileged and full with first lust swept aside his father’s warnings and concerns. King Job would rub his hands together in worry, as he is wont to do. 

That evening, Prince Aelor the Pure, Crown Prince of Conqueria, First of his Name, First Born of Queen Tohm and King Job, was meant to be crowned and given all of these titles and more. The coronation was at 9pm, exactly the moment eighteen years before when he’d been born, finally reaching the age of consent and becoming a full-fledged adult (-ish). 

At 8:55pm, Aelor kissed his sweetheart behind the closed door to the stage where the Holy Person would place a thin golden crown upon his head. There was definitely a lot of tongue and groping, and since his boyfriend was eighteen as of a week prior, Aelor was excited to get up on that stage, receive his crown, and declare to the entire royal court that he would be marrying [INSERT NAME HERE].

Aelor stepped through the doors that opened before him as if by magic (or several employees in a side room tugging on heavy pulleys), and stepped out, a long red cape with dalmation accents around the neck and edges, a dalmation fur collar cinching at his neck. He walked across the ridiculously long stage, and his father sat on the large purple throne, beaming with joy and pride at his first born child who he held in his womb, the product of his love with his beloved Tohm, Ejaculate rest her soul. King Job was also crying, of course.

Kneeling before the Holy Person, covered up so completely with frilly white robes, a long thin train of white following behind them, Aelor bowed his head. Words were spoken by the Holy Person, but Aelor the Most Virginious couldn’t focus on them; too excited, he was, to finally be of age and fuck and therefore marry his boy toy (who, it is prudent to mention again, is only a week older than him). 

At exactly 9:00pm, the Holy Person nestled the crown onto Aelor’s head, and something very strange indeed happened. The hands in Aelor’s beautiful wavy golden locks sunk into his hair, massaging his scalp. A hand slipped around the front to his mouth, and a finger entered there. Upon its entrance, the newly eighteen year old Aelor began to suckle, then took the entire digit down. It rubbed against the middle of his tongue, and where before Aelor could not take anything too deeply into his mouth because of his very strong gag reflex, he grasped the hand entering him with a shaking, lustful hold and shoved two more fingers down his throat. Three digits tickled the back of his throat from the inside, and drool flowed freely down the sides of his mouth. He raised his eyes to the Holy Person, and made such a pretty picture there on his knees, deepthroating himself on their hand, watching lustfully as the Holy Person reached into their voluminous white robes and rhythmically worked their free hand.

Aelor was lost in bliss, in the pleasure, a lust he’d never felt so strongly, tears streaming down his eyes and the need to  _ consume, reach, climax _ overwhelming.

Strong arms jerked him back off of the deep hand, tearing it out of his throat, and he finally gagged, coughing.

“What?” he rasped, and finally his head cleared, and he remembered himself and where he was and what he was doing. He looked behind him to the person who held him tightly, and of course it was his father, shielding his only son with his whole body from the onlookers, the royal court members who were trying to climb onto the stage and were busy trying to fuck each other as they tried to get to Aelor. 

“Guards!” King Job commanded over the cacophony, his kingly voice too kingly to ignore, and the royal guard surrounded the pair, helping Aelor up and escorting him out and back to his chambers. Aelor had never understood why his father populated the royal guard with people who felt no sexual attraction at all, who were not repulsed by sex but who did not want it and did not seek it out and were perfectly, wonderfully, completely happy with their friends and loved ones and even some who had romantic relationships and were parents. 

Aelor had never understood, until now, when they rushed him to his room, comforted him, brought him soup and water, and stood outside his door for an entire week while the wood fey’s sex curse heightened, and then finally faded to a dull thrum. They were the only ones immune to the curse, except, of course, for his family. 

He never saw what’s his name again, and honestly? He didn’t care to.


End file.
